In the Wake of the Red Keep
by Erlkonig
Summary: Jaime is presumed dead with Cersei when the Red Keep collapses. Brienne grieves. But a surprise is around the corner. What do we say to the God of Death? Post S8E4. This is a pre-emptive response to if the leaks about episode 5 turn out to be true. I was going to wait until the episode aired, but why not start the rage-fest early?


"Brienne, there's something I need to tell you." Sansa reached out to hold Brienne's hand, and she spoke the words softly and sadly. "Ser Jaime was in the Red Keep when it collapsed. I'm so sorry, Brienne."

Brienne felt her face crumpling into a sob and her eyes filling with tears. "Pardon me, my lady," she choked out as she fled the room.

That night she dreamed of Jaime. _She was trapped in a dark cave, Oathkeeper lifted above her head and burning with a clear blue flame. In the distance she saw Jaime, trembling before the demons of his past, Rhaegar and Aerys, Cersei and his poor strangled cousin, Bran in a wheelchair, and his three children with golden hair and stones over their eyes. He fled from the shadows, pursuing Cersei further into the cave as the flame of his sword sputtered out. She called out to him but he didn't turn, sprinting away and leaving her alone._

She threw herself into her work as Commander. Her days were filled with training, military strategy, and reviewing supplies. She dared not stop for a minute or a second, for the moment her mind was freed, it drifted back to Jaime. _Did he suffer? Did he struggle, pinned under a heavy stone column? Did he gasp for breath as his life and blood left his body?_ She heaved, thinking of Jaime's body crushed by the crumpling Keep, his beautiful face smashed beyond recognition by falling rocks.

Her work kept the apparitions at bay, but night after night his battered body filled her dreams, gray face streaked with red, slack-jawed, sightless eyes staring through her own. Night after night, she awoke with a gasp, breathing hard, her face covered in tears, her arm reaching across the bed. She was always alone.

She took to drinking to a stupor, to buy herself a few precious hours of forgetful peace.

The days turned to weeks.

Brienne volunteered to find the bandits who were pillaging their armory. There were four of them, and she was slowed from exhaustion and dulled from drink. The last man managed to wound her shallowly before she killed him. She looked down at the wound, annoyed and faintly disappointed. They should have been no match for her, yet she wished they had been better. _Maybe they would have killed me, and I can finally rest. With him._ But her body was honed by years of training. It would not allow her an honorable death in battle, and instead fought to keep her alive.

_You need to live_, she reminded herself grimly. _You're no coward. Remember your duty. _But the thought of the lonely years ahead filled her with icy dread, and she fled to the hazy comfort of the bottle.

The weeks passed.

He was everywhere and nowhere. A thousand times a day, she thought to tell him something. A fast horse, a shipment of strawberries, a bearskin cape that reminded her of his reckless bravery when he'd saved her life. The wine at her table and the fire by her bed. Her armor and sword with his - and her - golden lion on the pommel. The bed that she shared with him, where she now lay to one side, alone with his ghost.

Slowly, the nightmares gave way to beautiful fantasies, where the sun was always shining, and Jaime waited for her, beautiful and gallant, quick-witted and mirthful. Each night he visited her dreams, where she sparred with him with her tongue and sword, until he threw her down and kissed her.

She endured each gray, empty day, an unfeeling shell of herself, waiting for night, and Jaime, to come.

One night, she had set aside her armor and thrown another log into the fire when she heard a quiet _tap-tap_ on her door. _Odd_, she thought. _I don't remember falling asleep. _She opened the door to see _him_ on her step, looking more tired and ragged than her usual visions. Wordlessly, she pulled him into her room and kissed him.

He stood frozen in place, looking startled and concerned. Finally, he asked, "Aren't you surprised to see me?"

Brienne was puzzled. "No," she answered. "I dream of you every night."

His eyes widened with a pained and tender gaze. "Brienne, I'm real!" the ghost said urgently. He took a step forward and wrapped his arms around her, pulling her against his warm chest and squeezing her tightly. His breath whispered in her ear, "I'm here for you. Leaving you hurt more than losing my hand. From now on, I'll always be here for you."

She had thought all her tears were cried and spent, but now fresh tears sprang to her eyes. "Jaime, why did you leave? Why did you have to go to King's Landing and die?"

"Brienne, family has always been everything to me. I hated my sister, but still I couldn't leave my family to die. I had to try for my child. I tried, and I failed, but I survived. Danaerys wanted me imprisoned, so I crawled away to hide and come back to you. I traveled off the road and by night. You're my family now, and I love you."

Brienne shook her head. "How can you say that when you'll be gone in the morning?" She asked, her lips grazing his neck and her voice barely a whisper.

"I'll be here in the morning, just wait and see." The ghost stroked her hair and led her to the bed, gently untying her shirt and tucking her under the covers. He lay down next to her in the space she left for him, turning to her with their faces almost touching. His arm reached around her shoulders, and his lips brushed against hers.

For the first time in weeks, she slept without drinking, and in the morning, he was there.

THE END!


End file.
